Discovery
by WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: Slash. The moment he first sees Eddie Carmichael, Blaise Zabini's world falls apart. A coming out story told in seven parts for the 7Snogs community on LJ. Prompt Six up now.
1. i restless

**A/N: **Rated T. Later chapters may be rated M. This is slash. There will be mature themes, language, non-explicit sexual situations. Cross posted on my LJ and the community 7Snogs. I own nothing. These versions of Blaise and Eddie come from my large stories, _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell**_ and _**Daphne Greengrass and the 7th Year From Hell**_. They are together in that story as a same-sex couple; this is my version of Blaise coming to terms with his sexuality. You do not need to read the "Daphne" series to follow this set.

* * *

**i. restless**

The first time Blaise Zabini met a wizard who was gay, he was about nine years old and he was with his mother. It was nighttime, and they were meeting an associate of Francesca Zabini's in a little pub right inside Knockturn Alley.

As they were walking, they had spotted two wizards holding hands. One wizard, who had dark, curly hair and the most striking blue eyes, swept his finger across the other's cheek and kissed him on his lips. He had a smile that danced across his face.

Blaise had noticed all of this and was not disgusted. He had thought it was perfectly natural. Until—

"That type of deviancy has no place in our world, darling!" His mother had pulled him close to her to keep himself from touching the men. They walked away, but Blaise turned around, a little more than intrigued by the sight.

The man who had instigated the kiss had caught the young boy's eye and his lips had curved upwards. The man gave Blaise a smile, one that he thought was pleasant, as well as . . . _somethingelse_.

At the same time, Blaise did not know what to make of the odd tingle that had shot through his body as he watched the men walk away.

--

The first time Blaise Zabini saw Eddie Carmichael, it was late evening, heading right into the night. Blaise was sitting Draco Malfoy in the library and they were but a few metres away from the Ravenclaw and his friends.

Blaise noticed nothing other than Eddie's mouth.

There was a resemblance to that man who had smiled at him in Diagon Alley. Blaise winced; why the hell he was thinking about that man now was beyond him.

He watched Carmichael's mouth move as he smiled, talked and laughed with his own study group. But he never missed the particular way his lips peaked in the center — strong, assertive, and handsome—

He shook himself out of it. "Fuck!" He rubbed his eyes with his hands.

Draco arched a perfectly arrogant eyebrow. "What in Salazar's name has got into you?"

Blaise blinked, looked over at Eddie, and back at Draco, and composed himself by frowning. "Just those over there," he nodded at the table full of fifth year Ravenclaws, all laughing and fawning over Eddie as he spoke about whatever. He sneered at them, far easier than he thought. "Those stupid, little Mudblood eagles. Half-bloods too. All sitting at that table."

He glanced shiftily towards Draco, managing a sneer that was far too easy.

_Disgusting!_

_Thinking about those things is disgusting, Zabini._

_So just stop already!_

Draco snorted. He lifted up his wand at the Ravenclaws, waving it as one would to cast the Killing Curse. "I've always said that idiot Headmaster had far too low standards here. And I don't care if they're the smartest of this wretched lot!" He leaned forward to Blaise. "Their blood is filthy!"

Blaise smirked in response, and he took notice of them again. But this time, he saw that Eddie's attention had left his own table and was now watching him. Although his eyes lingered on the Ravenclaw's own for just a couple of seconds, they fell to the boy's lips.

And much to his disgust, he could not stop staring.


	2. ii consume

**A/N: ** Slash, mature themes, language, non-explicit sexual situations. Based on my versions of Blaise and Eddie from my "_From Hell_" series.

I own nothing. The name "Maurice Hall" is a small homage to the book and film "Maurice", starring Hugh Grant and James Wilby.

* * *

**ii. consume**

Blaise Zabini sat at the dinner table, waiting for the adults to finish. His mother and her sixth husband were having a dinner party. In attendance were, among others, the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Halls, and of course, the Goyles and Silas and Vincent Crabbe — always the tag-alongs with Lucius' family.

After dinner had been served, the adults broke away from the younger ones for after-dinner brandies and cordials, as was custom. Blaise and the others found their way up to the west wing of _Il Vila Dello Zabini,_ reputed to have been haunted by centuries-old ghosts.

They had split up into groups and Blaise found himself with Maurice Hall, a handsome wizard his age, with fair complexion and freckles that covered his face. Maurice had the most piercing blue eyes, ones that were crystalline and sharp. Blaise noticed them; he couldn't help it, hard as it was not to be completely mesmerized. The eyes seemed to watch him, to stare at him at every opportunity, but would always look away when he finally noticed.

Every time he caught Maurice staring at him, Blaise felt something in his chest hitch. Time paused. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still and things felt . . .

Felt . . .

_Right?_

And then his mother's voice would stream through his head, shrill and stubborn.

"_Vile perverts! I cannot believe the Muggle's scourge of deviancy has spread to our society!"_

Blaise and Maurice peeked into a dark room on the third floor. As soon as they shut the door behind them, the wall sconces flared to life. Blaise let out a low whistle and walked towards the ancient tapestry depicting the great lineage of Zabinis, dating back to the 1200's.

"Do you want to see the famous Zeno Gabriele Zabini?" Blaise asked. He looked over, grinning at first, but the longer his eyes lingered, his face fell.

Maurice walked over to him, nervous and shaking. Blaise stared at him, unable to tear his eyes away. And just as he was about to ask what was wrong, Maurice brought his hand to his face.

And he kissed him.

It took Blaise by shock, because it slowly dawned upon him that he was doing nothing to push away this boy's trembling lips. The initial jolt, the tingle of another's mouth on top of his own, the pleasant sensations and scents from the lad, of mint and spice — it surrounded Blaise and almost made him forget—

_Almost._

"What the fuck?" He shoved Maurice away, and wiped his mouth with his arm.

"I-I thought . . . I thought y-you were watching me," Maurice stammered. His head fell into his hands. "Oh! Oh hell—"

Blaise ran out of the room, leaving the other boy behind. He said nothing more the rest of the evening, but he continued to think about that single moment, dreaming about it even after a week.

Despite every attempt to make himself stop.

* * *

Dinner at Hogwarts this evening was not fun for Blaise Zabini.

He kept looking, staring at Eddie Carmichael. It had been like this after seeing him for the first time in the library.

_Seeing him._

He couldn't eat. And when he kept catching himself staring at Eddie, all he wanted to do was punch that bloody Ravenclaw in the face.

It was disgusting, this intrigue, this . . . _fascination_ he felt towards another boy. Blaise had spent time by himself, devouring various wizard development texts, feeling his desperation growing to the point of daring to ask Pomfrey herself the question that he didn't want to know the answer to—

_Am I_ . . .

_Is this normal?_

At about half-past-ten, Blaise felt his stomach turn itself inside out. Famished, he snuck out of the dungeons and headed towards the main staircase, to the corridor on the right, all the way to the painting of the fruit bowl.

He was just about to tickle the pear, when—

"Oi! What're you doing running around this late hour?"

Blaise's heart stopped. It started beating again with a rapid tattoo. He forced his shocked face into something closer to an arrogant smirk — the classic Zabini expression. He glared at Eddie, refusing to respond to his question.

"Answer me! I'm a prefect, and I have no problems deducting points." He grinned, giving his face a beautiful, devilish quality. "It'll more than make my day to take away points from Slytherin."

It wasn't even the sarcastic smile that infuriated Blaise. It was feeling his stomach swoop as that smirk swept across Eddie's handsome face.

"Do you even know who I am?" Blaise strode forward, his nose high in the air, his chest puffed out. "Just try it, and I'll hex your bollocks until they're the size of . . . of . . ."

His voice trailed off as he noticed Eddie coming closer to him. The prefect's wand pressed against his chest and he smiled. It was evil — Sweet Salazar! Blaise didn't like what was running through his head at that moment. It was impulse, pure, stupid impulse. It needed to stop. It needed to be destroyed.

It did not need to interfere with his ability to insult anyone.

Eddie leaned forward, still smiling. "I notice you can't stop looking at me, Zabini. Every where I go, I see you staring at me."

Hearing it from his mouth snapped Blaise out of his stupor. He pushed Eddie away, growling and baring his teeth like an animal in captivity. He jabbed his wand right back at the Ravenclaw.

"Fuck – off!" Blaise's upper lip curled as he spoke. "You stay away from me, you . . . you—"

"You _what_?"

Blaise roared back at the other boy and threw him against the wall. "You're a pervert!"

"If I am," Eddie said, with a laugh, "then what does that make you?"


	3. iii glow

**Rating :** This chapter is an M.

**Warnings:** Slash, mature themes, language, this chapter has some explicit descriptions.

**Disclaimer:** These versions of Blaise and Eddie come from my large stories, _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell_ and _Daphne Greengrass and the 7th Year From Hell_. You do not need to read the "Daphne" series to follow this set. This version of Daphne Greengrass is a half-blood foster child, who is very coarse and foul-mouthed. Not to mention slightly promiscuous. Everything is the property of JKR

* * *

**iii. glow**

She was a vulgar thing.

Common.

Uncouth.

But social status and wealth didn't matter to Blaise. At least not when Daphne Greengrass went down on him. Nor when they shagged.

Blaise met her at night, sometimes in a closet or dark corner of the dungeon. Other times, when he felt particularly daring, they did their deeds in a more public place like the Slytherin common room, the light from the fire illuminating her movements.

His hand wrapped around the back of her head, not that she needed much persuasion with speed or depth. Daphne was not much of a girl, with her ratty clothes and her "nobody" status.

But she had one hell of a mouth.

Blaise's breathing sped up as he squeezed the strands of her hair. He was far too tense, though. He kept moaning and keening, but there was a problem this time. It was taking too long. Actually, each time had been more and more difficult for Blaise. Her normal methods didn't seem to work or . . . or he was distracted.

_Or_ . . .

He looked down. His fingers felt curls instead of Daphne's straight hair. Suddenly, it was not Daphne's face that was working his crotch.

It was that handsome bloke again. That blasted, fucking gorgeous Ravenclaw.

Eddie.

His bastard of a mind had betrayed him. Again.

Eddie's lips wrapped around Blaise, his cheeks sank in as he sucked and licked him, his hands, strong and familiar with — _justtherightforceMerlinMerlinMERLIN!!_

He exploded.

Blaise clamped over his mouth, praying that he didn't say his name. Or if he did, that Daphne had been too occupied with tending to her jaw to notice.

* * *

He spun his wand around in his hand. Over and over again. Waiting.

Because, dammit, if Eddie Carmichael wasn't going to leave him alone, he was going to curse that stupid, gorgeous . . . _stupid_ face right off of him.

He just needed to do something other than wanting to kiss him.

There was a glow underneath the door, and the shadow of a foot. A squeak, as the thick wood gave way and a wand, partially obscured in the low light of the hallway, appeared.

"_Lumos_!"

Blaise readied his wand, standing back to let Eddie enter the empty room. The door shut, locked and Eddie swept his lighted wand, casting a glow over the dull darkness.

"Got my note, I see?"

Eddie shined his light on him. And grinned. "Ah. It _was_ you, Zabini." He looked Blaise up and down. "Interesting."

"Stop that." Blaise jabbed his wand in the air between them. However, Eddie walked closer.

"Writing me anonymous notes now? Asking for clandestine meetings in the middle of the night?" Eddie stuck his wand back into his robes and casually flung the fabric back so he could put his hands in his pockets. "Some might get the wrong idea about us."

Blaise backed up, but his arse met the edge of a desk, thus preventing him from moving further away. "Shut your mouth, or I'll curse your half-blood tongue right off!"

Eddie grinned, licking his lips. "No. Don't think I will."

His nostrils flared. "Do as I say!" What was it about this bastard that made all sense, sensibility and snark fly right out of his head.

Eddie shook his head, that infernal grin still plastered on his face. "Do you really want to hex me, Blaise?" The closer he got, the silkier his voice became. He canted his head. "I don't think you do."

He stopped walking, and Blaise realized just how close he was. He desperately hoped Eddie wouldn't notice that his wand was now shaking.

Instead, Eddie pushed the wand out of the way. "I don't think you want to curse me or my tongue."

Blaise said nothing, but instead he watched Eddie's mouth. He watched him move closer. And closer.

And he kissed him.

Blaise felt those lips — those bloody magnificent, horrible lips! — press against his. Eddie's were smooth, wonderfully so, and had it been nothing but those lips, it might've been just a good kiss.

When Blaise's mouth opened, only slightly, Eddie eased his tongue in, flickering over his own, tasting and filling him. _Ye Fucking Monsters of Gods_! Eddie _knew_! Whether it was because he was a bloke and had experience snogging other blokes, Blaise didn't know. But he _knew_. Almost instinctually he knew what it took to keep Blaise here, to keep them kissing — Bloody Salazar with the kissing!

It filled him with fire, with heat.

What had been just a very good kiss had suddenly become terrifyingly spectacular.

It was too much, the contact of Eddie — mouth, tongue, Eddie's hands on his cheeks. Eddie pulled him to his body and Blaise gasped, giving the Ravenclaw more access to his mouth. He felt crotch through clothes, and a _jolt_! _Oh Salazar, no_! A great jolt shot through his body and blood flowed to his groin and it made him come alight from the inside. Slowly, muddled with the voices in his head—

_Thisiswrongsoveryverywrong!_

_Oh fuck it!_

Blaise realized the reaction that was growing inside him was a direct result of having a bloke's tongue tangling with his own.


	4. iv reflection

**A/N:** This chapter is definitely M. Slash, boys touching each other's naughty places, bad language. This chapter has slightly enthusiastic descriptions. Everything is the property of JKR.

* * *

**iv. reflection**

Eddie Carmichael was an enigma.

After all, he was a Ravenclaw. And Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence and wit. Ergo, they were supposed to be finely attuned to the inner workings of the human mind.

However, the mind was a vast, mysterious organ. And Eddie reflected that mystery. He revelled in artifice and trickery; girls thought him sly and coyly aloof, and blokes (ones like him, at least) thought him handsome and damn charming.

He made sure he observed people with a keen eye. He had to, after all. Make absolutely sure that he was laying his charm on the right wizards.

He hated to think about what might happen if he slipped.

Eddie's family was wealthy. He wouldn't put it past some desperate soul to blackmail him should they ever find out whom he decided to fuck. Nor would he put it past his own family to shut him out if they ever knew he fancied blokes.

So much was expected from him! If people knew half the things that passed through his head during the day — _whom_ he thought about on any given day — they would probably drop dead, shocked and scandalized.

Eddie knew he was different as early as his third year. When the gloriously developed Megan Jones found a spot next to him on one of the plushest couches, she gazed at him in a coquettish manner, wanting to discuss the monster that was attacking students—

"I know it's going after Muggle-borns, but it's still really scary, you know? I would love having a boy walk me to classes. Eddie, what do you say?"

She blushed and he tried to look amused and charmed when her hand fell on top of his, thinking it was odd that there was simply no physical reaction to her touch. Instead, his eyes travelled over to his best mate, Roger Davies, sitting in an armchair just to their left. Roger snickered and gave him a thumbs up. Eddie couldn't stop watching him — his eyes, his lips, his smile — even when Roger returned to his Quidditch playbook.

In his fifth year, he and Sarah Fawcett very nearly managed to upstage even Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour at the Yule Ball—

Well, not really. It was hard to upstage Fleur. Even Eddie could objectively admit she was a work of art. Not that his body found her inspiring though.

However, Roger, himself, _was_ inspiring. And the dirty thoughts that came to mind. . . .

Sarah was a vision in lavender robes, gorgeous against her darker skin and pulled-up hair. She possessed such a dignified elegance about her that Eddie fancied she had modelled herself on one of those fairy tales, where the princess found her prince, kissing him just before he slew some foul beast.

"You like my robes?" she asked when they decided, at her behest, to take a walk in the rose garden.

"They're beautiful." Eddie grinned. He cocked his eyebrow. "Didn't I already tell you that?"

"No, you didn't. I was wondering when you would." She stopped and swayed back and forth, batting her eyes, her skin sparkling with some funny charm that Cho or Marietta must've helped her out with.

The moon shined on her face and she licked her lips. "Eddie, would you like to kiss me?"

He took a breath, staring at her apparently sweet, apparently sensual smile. He took her hands, hoping that, when he did kiss her, he could muster the enthusiasm, the excitement that he should have.

"I would like that," he said, leaning forwards . . . and more. And more. "I'd like that very much."

Their lips met.

And to Eddie's dismay, there was nothing there.

Only by imagining that it was not Sarah's face but Roger's that he was snogging could he even approach something resembling passion.

* * *

Kissing Blaise.

There was something there. Emotion. Chemistry. Eddie Carmichael hated to admit it because, well—

It was Blaise Zabini. And he was an arse.

Of immense proportions.

They always met at night, under the cover of darkness. Tonight, it was the rarely used, mostly secluded prefect's bathroom. Eddie didn't know why the prefects never seemed to take advantage of it; bring a bloke or a bird here for a snog. For something more.

Of course, Eddie thought, they _were_ prefects. And they were supposed to set examples for the rest of the student body.

_So what would they say if they knew about you, Carmichael?_

He stifled his thoughts as he continued to snog Blaise breathless.

Both boys' shirts were loose and wrinkled, and Eddie hovered above him, dipping his head down to his, kissing him. Gentle and rough. Light and deep.

His hands roamed over every square inch of Blaise's body, sliding under his shirt, touching warm skin.

_Gods!_

Feeling his chest and muscles as his mouth explored his. Eddie couldn't think of anything better.

_Except—_

He chanced it this time. Slowly arching his hips to give himself access, Eddie's hand fell to the waist of Blaise's trousers. He found the belt, already unbuckled, and started undoing the button.

Blaise's breath sped up. He pressed Eddie's face even closer to his, shutting his eyes and swallowing—

Eddie hesitated. His boyfr- . . . lov- . . . .

No.

_Blaise_ never failed to react every time hands dived below. Usually he'd freeze, sit right up and end the whole snogging session.

Usually.

Not tonight. Tonight, Eddie felt a shift in the air. There was a spark that crackled around them as they moved together.

"Blaise," he said, whispering in his ear. "I thought I'd try touching you a bit. Feeling your chest is nice, but do you think you're ready for a little more?"

Instead of pulling away, Eddie felt him clench his upper arms. He could hear the shaking _pant, pant, pant_ from the other wizard; he was barely hanging on. Eddie grinned like an eagle that had just found its supper.

"Think you can handle—"

"Just – fucking – _wank – me_, Carmichael!"

"My, my . . . such the romantic," he replied, smirking.

Their mouths melted into each other's, their tongues filling, sucking, tasting. To Eddie's surprise, Blaise finished unbuttoning his own trousers. Wriggling out of them, he shoved Eddie's hand right onto his naked crotch and started guiding him.

The desired motion.

The wanted speed.

Blaise threw his head back as Eddie took over. "_Fuh_-! Merlin. . . . Fucking Merlin. . . ." he whispered.

He nipped at Blaise's neck, and chanced turning his head to the side.

Eddie gasped. The reflective tiles on the bathroom wall!

_Oh for the love of—_

He watched himself as he stroked Blaise. It was gorgeous! Great Godric Gryffindor's Sword, it was gorgeous! Watching Blaise's back curve, his mouth open, following his own arm as it moved, his hand doing things that made the Slytherin moan and keen and clutch at him like he was suffocating and he needed air.

_He needs this._

Eddie moaned when he felt Blaise's hand on him, matching him stroke for glorious stroke.

They came at practically the same time. And as their bodies fell back to earth, Eddie caught their reflection in the tile one more time, smiling and trembling as he saw their clothed and rumpled bodies intertwined together.


	5. v belt

**Warnings:** Slash, boys kissing -- _a lot! --_ each other's naughty places, bad language, _very_ enthusiastic descriptions of some male versions of Blaise and Eddie come from my large stories, _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell_ and _Daphne Greengrass and the 7th Year From Hell_. You do not need to read the "Daphne" series to follow this set. This chapter is a shout-out to all the Fleur fans out there! Especially Katy (Bad Mum), whose Fleur really rocks!!

Everything is the property of JKR.

* * *

**v. belt**

Eddie swore under his breath. His Charms and Transfiguration assignments were due tomorrow, and the incessant nattering and drooling of a thousand wizards trying to impress the Beauxbatons witches were wearing on his last nerve.

_This is the bloody library! Isn't any place sacred anymore?_

Exasperated, he rubbed his eyes, thinking that there had to be something — a brain elixir—that could help him overcome this horrible distraction.

Particularly since his mate, Roger Davies had joined the noisy throng and wasn't currently sitting in front of him, staring at him with that handsome smile, distracting him with his rolled-up sleeves showing the barest hint of perfect, Quidditch-sculpted arms, a shirt that the top button refused to stay buttoned, splitting far too much and showing just enough—

"Bollocks."

"'Ello, Eddie. 'Ow are you doing?"

He smiled at her. Maybe he could conjure some enthusiasm or male-driven idiocy to make like she had any effect on him. "Fleur. You look gorgeous as usual."

Merlin, he hoped that would be enough.

"Oh! Roger eez right! You are so very sweet!"

Eddie swallowed that bitter pill; ever since the Yule Ball, Roger had been reduced to a quivering mound of goo over Fleur. And he had subsequently spent less and less time with him.

He had found a little solace by finding some secluded moments for frottage and mutual wanking with a very handsome sixth-year Gryffindor, teaching him some of the more impressive highlights of same-sex relationships.

"May I join you?"

"Please!" He held out his hand to the chair across from him. However, Fleur chose to sit right next to him. She turned around and waved her fingers at the throng of blokes directly behind them. Eddie looked at the wizards; his heart sunk as he spied several of the handsomest boys in the school watching her like she was the only woman on earth.

Including Roger.

_Dammit!_

"I noteeced zat you were seeting 'ere all by yourself. And you did not join Roger over zere to talk to me."

Eddie felt himself blush. He coughed into his fist to clear his throat and managed to regain his composure, despite his racing heart. "Oh, well, unfortunately Charms and Transfiguration won't do themselves." He gave her a charming lopsided smirk. "And if I want even a shot at being a Healer, I've got to make at least an E on both O.W.L.s."

"Hm. Healing Arts are very noble, Eddie." Fleur licked her lips and leaned forwards to his ear. "But I am curious about somezeeng."

"Yes?"

"I am releaseeng my Veela charms een full force. And eet seems to 'ave no effect on you."

She pulled back and looked at him with a very odd smile. Eddie's throat dried out and he watched two more wizards walking behind Fleur, ogling her and bumping into bookshelves.

"Oh, believe me, Fleur. I feel it. I definitely feel it." He shrugged. "But Roger's my mate, and you're his bird. I've got more class than that."

Once again, he flashed her that smile of his, one that usually left girls cooing for more.

Instead, Fleur put a hand on his arm. "Eet ees all right. We Veela are very attuned to 'ormones. Also, zee magic of desire, of feeleengs and for lack of a bettair word — love." Her smile grew wider. "I _know_."

With a chuckle that he desperately hoped didn't sound nervous, Eddie continued to pour his charm on her. "I've got absolutely no idea what you mean? Know what?"

"I know zat you like Roger. And uzzair weezards."

The quill Eddie had been holding fell out of his hand and floated to the table. He knew the façade had been broken; he wanted desperately to recover, but it was too late, knowing what his face looked like. His breath constricted in his throat and his entire core felt rigid, as if a band had tightened around it.

Eddie couldn't look at Fleur; instead he remained focused on his parchment. "Um . . .y'know, my family is rich. If you want, I can give you money o-or anything. Just so long as you keep this to yourself."

"Eddie!"

He snapped his head around. Fleur regarded him with fierce eyes.

"I do not want your money! I 'ave more zan enough! I want to 'elp you."

"'Elp me?'" His voice was meek and he didn't mean to sound like he was mocking her, but Eddie wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Well, he never did.

"I want you to find love, Eddie. Veela are very good matchmakers too! And I feel zo bad about Roger and seeing 'eem and you like 'eem so much—"

"_Shh_! Fleur, can you keep it down?!"

She laughed and looked around the library, gasping when she found her first mark. "Over zair! At zat table."

Eddie followed her eyes. "Who? Finch-Fletchley? He's just a kid."

"'E's one year youngair zan you!"

"He's a Hufflepuff!" he whinged.

"'E's adorable."

"Fleur, he's totally innocent! And is he even . . . y'know. Into _that_?"

She said nothing, only smiled and held up a finger. "Watch zees."

Eddie's heart pounded, his chest remained knotted as he watched Fleur glide past the multitude of wizards clamouring for her attention.

She sidled up to Justin Finch-Fletchley, catching his attention much the same way she had caught his. She fell into an easy conversation with the bloke, whispering and pointing over at Eddie's direction.

He slumped in his seat, hiding his face behind his hands.

"This is a _bad idea_ . . ."

A few weeks later, when Eddie found himself in a locked bays' bathroom on a Saturday night with his cock sheathed inside Justin's mouth, and Finch-Fletchley earnestly giving him a whole new meaning to the word "Hufflepuff" did he start to think that Fleur's idea had actually been quite good.

* * *

Nighttime. Again.

Same bathroom. Different bloke.

Eddie slammed Blaise against the wooden bathroom stall. At some point, he thought, someone would get wise to the fact that he wasn't exactly on his prefect patrols the entire time.

But, gods! He hoped that would come later rather than sooner.

_Speaking of coming._

"Tell me, Blaise—" Eddie managed to say in between panting and suckling on the skin of his neck.

"Stop talking!" His voice was strangled, but that could've been because he was currently struggling with Eddie's belt, trying to get to his groin to stroke him like he usually did.

Instead, Eddie growled and shoved Blaise's hands away, pinning them against the stall's wall. Breathing heavily, Eddie kissed him, rough and passionate, as if he was devouring the finest meal. Tearing his lips away, he whispered into the Slytherin's ear, kissing the fleshy lobe as he spoke.

"Ever had a bloke suck your cock?"

Well, that did it. Blaise's hips thrust forward.

"Would you like to have a bloke suck you off, Blaise?"

"_Mmm_!"

"Use your words, Zabini."

Blaise took in a huge breath through his nose, shaking, trembling, as if he was about to explode.

"_FUCKYESPLEASESUCKMEOFF_!"

"Keep your hands against the wall." Eddie gave his hands one final push, his eyes staring at him as if to say, _"I am deadly serious and if you even so much as touch me while I go down on you, I'll stop!"_

"On one condition, Blaise."

"Hmm?" He was about to lose it again. Virginal Slytherins were so easy.

"I'm next after you come."

Zabini smirked. It would've been arrogant had he not been quivering. "And if I don't?"

"Then you lose any future chances for the best head of your life."

The wizard gasped . . . and he nodded almost immediately.

Eddie reached down with his hand to the buckle of Blaise's trousers, using his hands to release the metal from the leather. For effect, he tore it from the cloth loops and doffed it onto the floor.

He kept his lips firm on Blaise's as he undid the fastenings that prevented full access to his lower body. The trousers fell with little effort, and Eddie admired the brilliant light cloth of silk boxers against dark skin. His eyes had adjusted to the blackness of the dim room, the only light coming from the long windows. Moonlight.

_How romantic._

Eddie grinned as he slid his hands inside Blaise's boxers, pushing them down the wizard's legs. He had only seen this much of the Slytherin's body before, but never had he actually had him in his mouth.

_No time like the present._

Blaise's breath hitched as Eddie fell to his knees, his hands giving a preview for what he was going to do. The Ravenclaw kissed around his crotch, gently letting his tongue flicker on Blaise's skin.

He pulled his head back, his mouth now level with it. "No hands, Zabini. No matter how much you want to."

Blaise whimpered. "Jus' . . . do . . . _it_!"

Smiling, Eddie pulled his body forward and let Blaise enter his mouth, feeling him inside. Warm. Pulsing.

_Oh gods_!

He moved, listening to Zabini's guttural moans. Swearing. Saying _his_ name.

He wasn't just "Carmichael". He was "Eddie" now. And all it took was an amazingly steady rhythm and thick tongue to elicit the response.

His head rolled forwards and back. His tongue licked and lapped with well-practiced speed. His checks sucked in, the vacuum making an irresistible pull even as Eddie's hand pushed down on the length.

When he fondled Blaise with his free hand, the Slytherin tried desperately to grab a hold of his head, to feel his soft curls beneath his fingers as he attacked and sucked at his crotch. Eddie batted him away.

"Bad Blaise," he said, looking up at him while wanking him slowly and methodically. But he again returned to working Blaise with his mouth, with the skill and precision that his casual relationships, two older wizards, and a few books had taught him.

There was the sound of nails scraping wood, and Zabini's body quivered. Eddie knew it was coming . . . at any moment.

He thought he'd try to speed it up. Once again, Eddie's hand cupped him.

Blaise exploded in a fit of swears and echoing screams that made Eddie infinitely grateful for sound-muffling charms.

For one minute, as they adjusted and cleaned themselves off, Eddie thought Blaise might have forgotten all about their little deal. But once his boxers and trousers were back on, Blaise flung Eddie hard against the opposite wall of the stall, whipping off his belt much as Eddie had done his a few short minutes ago.

When Blaise went down on him, he at least impressed Eddie with his zeal, if not his technique. After he finished, he regarded the snake carefully. Zabini was trying to look nonchalant, but he was clearly anticipating feedback of his performance.

"Don't worry," Eddie said, smiling and kissing his lips. "There'll be plenty of time to practice."


	6. vi leaves

**A/N: **Let it never be said Suzanne doesn't try to finish her stories — even if they've gone nine months without an update. Rated M for sexual situations.

This chapter is dedicated to Sara Winters, who persistence is inspiring and hilarious. Merry early Christmas, babe. And to Bad Mum, to brighten her day. Katy, the first part, especially, is for you!

* * *

**vi. leaves**

Eddie Carmichael sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the sun, which hovered high in the blue sky. It was a gorgeous late spring day, and after the brain-melting studying schedule Eddie and the other Ravenclaw fifth years had set for themselves for their upcoming O.W.L.s, he needed to soak in this solar glory.

He walked towards the Quidditch pitch, although it was gone now. In its place was a row of green, man-sized hedges. The green towers were massive, and Hagrid had said were still not finished growing. Eddie reckoned it was for the third task; at that point, having seen what the champions had to go through, he was quite thankful that he had not been eligible for participation.

"Ed-_dee_!"

_Speaking of champions._

He grinned at the sound of her familiar sing-song voice and turned around to wave at Beauxbatons' brightest witch.

"Fleur," he said with a nod, "fancy meeting you out here."

She laughed. "Oh Eddie! Walk wiz me_, __s'il te plait_?" He held out his arm to her, and she took it, stepping in sync with the Ravenclaw and putting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie chuckled. He had Fleur had forged a very nice, if not baffling, friendship. Many wizards had asked him what his trick was, what made Fleur spend time with him whenever she wasn't with Roger or with her Beauxbatons friends.

And how the hell did he manage to remain calm, cool, and collected around her? His answer was always the same.

"Simple. She's Roger's girl. Roger's my mate and that's that, so I'm not going in between them."

_Of course, what they don't know . . . _

He turned to his companion. "Not with Roger today?"

Fleur's face fell and she sighed. "_Non. _I wanted to find you and talk to you." She laughed lightly and patted his arm. "I know wiz you, you talk to me because you really like me. And I do not 'ave to be a Veela to be around you. I 'ave only to be myself."

He grinned. "Funny thing is that I can be myself around you too, Fleur. Since you're the only one who knows, eh?" She squeezed his arm, beaming at him.

"Zo, 'ow are you and _Juste_-ine doing?"

He blushed and scratched his head with his free hand. "Well, that didn't quite work out."

"_Zut_!" Fleur said; she pouted. "And I was 'oping zat you would find 'appiness wiz 'im."

"I just turned sixteen. I've got some time still to just be a bloke and have fun, er . . . Fleur?"

"Mmm?" She was barely paying attention to him; instead, she was looking around them, apparently scoping out another boyfriend for Eddie.

"Fleur?"

Her eyes were glued to a pack of Slytherins to their left. "Zere!"

"_Zere_ what?"

Fleur sighed, exasperated, and shook his arm. "Eddie, over zere! Zee Slytherin boys in zat group."

Eddie guffawed. "What, them? No. Justin was one thing, but there is no way in hell any of those snakes are into—"

"What do you theek of zee tall, dark one? 'An'some, _non_?"

Eddie's eyes fell on the tall boy. He was handsome, aristocratic in his stature. There was a problem, though. Everything, including the very air that surrounded him, screamed arrogance. Upper-class snobbery. Entitlement.

Eddie hated such pomposity. He grew up surrounded with money — old money — himself, and it wasn't something that appealed to him. Perhaps it had something to do with realizing he was gay, and not quite fitting the mould that had preordained for him by birth. He was grateful that he at least had some eccentric relatives with whom he could talk about the more confusing, troubling aspects of his life.

This Slytherin, though, clearly had no such qualms with his fortune. It was clear by his associates. From the looks of it, he was friends with Draco Malfoy and his cronies. And if it was one thing Eddie Carmichael was aware, it was that those snakes thrived on insults and cruel taunts of half-bloods and Muggle-borns.

He was, by all appearances, the embodiment of everything that Eddie loathed in another human.

"Zee other boys are looking at me, but 'e does not. Just like _Juste_-ine."

"You're doing the Veela thing again, aren't you?"

She smiled slyly at him. "And eet 'as no effect on 'im."

Eddie continued to watch the beautiful, arrogant Slytherin, wondering whether she could be right about him.

"I'd say 'e ees one zat you should watch out for, dear Eddie."

They finally walked past the group. Predictably, every pair of eyes that belonged to a wizard watched the vision of Veela femininity that glided before them, gazing agog at Fleur Delacour . . .

All except for one, his head turned away — until he looked up, turned his head, and met Eddie's eyes.

"Maybe, Fleur. Maybe."

* * *

Same prefects' bathroom. Different middle of the night.

Same activities, nonetheless.

He pressed his body against Blaise's back, the beads of sweat from his bare chest mixing with the perspiration on Zabini's skin.

Eddie was wanking him from behind, nipping at his shoulder gently as one hand worked the length, the other cupping that rather magnificent Slytherin arse. He grinned as Blaise released a shuddered breath; he knew he was close — _oh so very close! — _and about to go over the edge.

Blaise's body stiffened and he pushed his hand off of him.

"I wasn't done, Zabini—"

"F-fuck me."

Now, Eddie froze. "Come again?"

Blaise turned around, panting and sweating, his eyes shimmering with want. "I w-want—" He bowed his head, resting it, shakily, on Eddie's shoulder. His voice trembled as he spoke.

"W-will you . . . fuck me?"

Eddie felt his body go numb with an odd tingle floating through his extremities. "I don't know if we're ready for that—"

Blaise shifted his body so that Eddie's fingers, which had been rubbing and gently pinching the skin of his arse, moved closer to a sensitive patch of flesh. Unfamiliar territory—

Eddie gasped. "_Merlin_! I . . . I've never—"

He felt fists, tight with yet-realized release, clench his back, grasping him through his white shirt. Blaise's head was still bowed and his voice trembled. "P-please . . . I don't — just want you to . . . to_ fuck_ me and then I can . . ."

And suddenly, there was a shudder. Blaise's body softened into a sad arc and he fell forward, slightly. Eddie didn't have to think twice about catching him. They collapsed together onto the floor, and sat on a small pile of discarded robes. The Ravenclaw encircled the Slytherin, who shook and trembled in an uncharacteristic display of emotional release.

Blaise's breathing was laboured, heavy. Eddie felt his lips move soundlessly against the skin of his shoulder.

"Just w-wanted . . . I wanted you to fuck me and then I can walk away. If we shag, we can stop this whole stupid thing and be done with it."

Hands still flat against his back, Eddie pulled away to look at Blaise. "You think this is all we're about? The wankings? The meeting in secret? All for the possibility of a shag?"

He could hear, rather than see, small, sharp breaths as Blaise tried to regain control of himself. Eddie didn't know how successful he was on that account.

"What else is it if it's not just about shagging?"

Blaise's question was met with silence. The second he spoke, he put something, whether intentional or not, out there. And now the words hovered between them like the proverbial apple hanging low on a tree.

"Well . . . wh-what if it wasn't just about a shag, Zab- Blaise?"

The Slytherin stared at him with uncertainty. Eddie knew better; the idiot was playing dumb.

"What do you mean if it isn't just about that?"

Blinking, trying to even consider if doing something affectionate was a bad idea or not, Eddie rubbed his fingertips together. This could be bad news for both of them. Eddie had always figured that showing any sign of emotion gave something away, and Blaise, being a Slytherin could latch onto it, use it against him.

But weren't these clandestine rendezvous mutual. Weren't they something that could be used against Blaise as well? And wasn't he privy to the fact that Blaise Zabini wanted him, wanted wizards just like Eddie did? Through this thing they were doing, Blaise revealed himself to him.

There was a chance he could risk revealing something of himself as well.

Slowly, he brought quivering hands up to Blaise's face. The Slytherin flinched at first when Eddie's fingers traced down his cheeks. But as Eddie let his hand settle, as he cupped Blaise's angular jawline and smoothed the backs of his fingers along his chin, all the stiffness, all the resistance to the touch dissipated. It was gradual, as if using _Diffindo_ to slice little chips of brick and stone from a wall. Blaise fell into the contact, and the longer Eddie let his hand linger on his face, the more Blaise melted.

He let out a breath — of relief, of content, Eddie didn't know. All he knew was that it was nice and kind of comforting.

Leaning forward, Eddie shut his eyes, and laid a gentle kiss on Blaise's upper lip. He sat back, but not too far. His hand still remained on the Slytherin, the moonlight streaming through the stained glass above him, dappling each boy's skin.

"Maybe we're a little more than just the shagging."

When Blaise opened his eyes back up again, he smirked, although this time it was warm, almost kind. Perhaps open to something more.

"Such a sentimental fool . . . Eddie."


End file.
